


Try the Peach One?

by notsafeforowls



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-02 18:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafeforowls/pseuds/notsafeforowls
Summary: Nate is more than a little surprised when he wakes up shortly after his sixteenth birthday to find the words “what do you think, pretty?” scrawled across his ribs in surprisingly nice handwriting





	Try the Peach One?

**Author's Note:**

> Brief mentions of Nate/Amaya, Nate/Zari, and Nate/Ray. Background avalance and darhkatom.

Some people get lucky with their soul marks. Their words show up in discreet places, on their upper arms or their legs. Nate even knows someone whose mark appeared on the sole of his foot. Some people get unlucky. Their marks are either too common or uncommon. In awkward places, like the back of their neck or even on their face. 

Some people don’t even get them at all. Nate honestly expects to fall into that category because, really, only about a quarter of all people get any marks to begin with, and while there’s never been a study, he's sure that haemophiliacs are less likely to get them. 

So Nate is more than a little surprised when he wakes up shortly after his sixteenth birthday to find the words _ what do you think, pretty? _ scrawled across his ribs in surprisingly nice handwriting, surrounded by bruising that Nate usually only gets when he’s skipped or missed a regular infusion. 

** 

When Nate shows Ava his words, she laughs so hard that she can’t breathe, so hard that the nearest horses make displeased noises and someone teaching their kid to ride for the first time shoots them an annoyed look. 

“Pretty,” she repeats between gasps for breath, clinging to the stable door. By the time she’s pulled herself together, she’s obviously been thinking about it. “Oh, no, it’s not Theo, is it?” 

“No, he calls me _ a _ sissy.” Because Nate does dressage and Theo thinks it’s girly. Nate would like to see _ him _ do anything other than fall off a horse. “It doesn’t feel like they’re being rude, though. It feels...” 

Nice. Honest. Like they’re really asking him what he thinks, like they’re really calling him pretty or asking if he thinks something is pretty, and not making fun of him. It’s times like this that Nate wishes that soul marks included capitalisation so he knowsmore about that question. 

** 

“Isn’t that a bit conceited?” Claudia asks, Elvis still playing in the background. She touches her fingers to Nate’s soul mark. “I mean, I know rib tattoos are getting more popular, but--” 

“It’s not a tattoo, it’s my soul mark,” Nate says on autopilot. 

Claudia freezes, her hand right over the mark. “Oh.” 

The first thing she said to him was, “I’ve been wondering why everyone’s been avoided the hottest guy in the room all night.” 

** 

The hammering stops about ten minutes after Ray leaves to talk to their downstairs neighbour. When there’s no sign of Ray after half an hour, Nate seriously begins to worry that it stopped because their noisy new neighbour used the hammer to bash Ray’s skull in instead of whatever he’s doing at two in the morning on a Monday morning. 

When Ray gets back two hours later, more than a little tipsy, Nate’s stress immediately melts away to mild annoyance. 

“Are you kidding me?” he asks as Ray stretches out on the sofa. “What the hell?” 

“He’s nice. He just moved in the other day and he’s just finishing up his shifts at his old workplace, so he didn’t realise the time. He’s used to working on a night schedule, see?” 

It sounds like a stupid excuse, but Nate throws a cushion at Ray and goes back to bed. He has an early exam in the morning. If there’s any more noise, he’ll just go downstairs himself, since it’s obviously too difficult for Ray to just yell at someone instead of making friends with them. 

Lie or not, Nate doesn’t hear a noise from their downstairs neighbour for as long as he lives in that apartment. He does, however, have to suffer Ray telling him that he’d get on well with the guy that Nate blames for getting him the lowest exam result he’s ever had. 

** 

Amaya’s different. Her soul mark says that her soulmate’s first words to her will be_ I don't think we've met yet _ and don’t match with Nate saying _ do you want another drink or are you okay with the stuff that you’re _ not _ now wearing? _ after he crashed into her in a crowded bar. 

“To telling destiny to fuck off,” Nate says one night, pressing a kiss to Amaya’s forehead as she turns up the volume on the new Star Wars movie. 

“We don’t need destiny when we have each other,” Amaya replies as she holds up her bottle so that he can clink them together. “And I have good news; I found someone to cover my shift on Monday, so we can have a long weekend together.” 

** 

It’s still not exactly a surprise when Amaya’s father dies and she returns to Zambesi. 

It’s even less of a surprise when she calls him two weeks later to tell him about a man she met who started working on the nature reserve after she moved to the US. 

** 

“I’m going to die alone,” Nate complains, staring at the invite to Ava’s wedding. Obviously she’s marrying her college girlfriend, of course she is. Nate can’t even stay in a relationship for two years and most of his friends are getting married. Amaya has a _ kid _now. Ray, his best friend (and former occasional hook-up), is married to Nora. They may not have soul marks at all, but Nate thinks they should. They don't even have matching tattoos, even though Charlie’s offered to give them a discount. 

She’s offered to cover up Nate’s soul mark, too. That offer is tempting sometimes. 

He shoves an entire doughnut in his mouth and almost chokes on it before Zari whacks him on the back hard enough to make him spit it out _ and _ make his back hurt. 

“Amateur,” she says before shoving an entire doughnut in her mouth and grinning at him as she chews it. 

“Show-off.” 

They’re kind of friends. Well, friends who have sex at least once a month. Nate thinks that if he got to choose, if he could give up his soul mark and get to pick anyone he wanted to stay with (like _ most people _), he’d choose Zari. She likes the same movies as him. She’s the only person he’s ever managed to convince to watch Groundhog Day multiple times in a row, and she went to a Halloween party with him last year dressed up as Marion Ravenwood (even if she’d claimed it was just because she liked the outfit.) 

“Hey, if you want, you can come to my filming session with Mona tomorrow? She’s interviewing me and someone called Rebecca Silver.” 

Nate shakes his head, ”No, I’m fine. I’ve got some research to do for work.” 

** 

Sometimes Nate wishes that he didn’t have a soul mark at all. After all, they’ve only ever led to him being dumped, or losing one of the only people he’s ever been in love with because she met her real soulmate, or not even having a real chance with Zari because Nate’s got someone else’s words right across his ribs. 

He’s heard dozens of variations of the damn question as well. Seconds where Nate thinks _ maybe, finally, possibly, one in a million chance _ before his mind catches up and he registers the differences in the question. 

_ “What do you think?” _

_ “What do you think of this?” _

_ “What do you think, _ _ pretty _ _ boy?” _

No matter how many people Nate meets, no matter how many people he literally asks if they’re his soulmate, he can't find whoever is supposed to ask him that question. 

“Maybe they’re dead,” Mona suggests when Nate wonders aloud if he’s ever going to find his soulmate. She ignores Charlie punching her arm. “What? The latest Rebecca Silver novel has a woman who discovers that the version of her soulmate who exists in her reality is dead, but the reason she finds out is because one from another reality shows up because someone’s killing all the versions of herself.” She pauses. “The plots a lot better than I make it sound.” 

Ava hands Mona another glass of wine. “Anyway, possibly dead soulmates aside, I need your opinions on suits and dresses. Sara and I have narrowed it down to only three options for each.” 

“Maybe I’m miscounting, but I thought that Sara said that she was having a best man as well, not a maid of honor.” Nate double checks just to make sure but, yes, he is in fact the only man sitting at the small table, there are four women; Nora, Mona, Kendra, and Laurel. 

“Oh, she is, but Mick is... Somewhere. I can’t remember where Sara said he is, all I know is that there’s no way in hell he can get here in time. We’re trying to make this wedding quick. I threatened him into showing up for the final fittings and adjustments, but other than that, we’re winging it with measurements.” Ava downs the rest of her glass of wine. 

** 

Nate’s half asleep when Ava bangs on the glass table in front of him. He starts, knocking his head painfully against an ugly antique wall light. 

“Sara wants your advice on something in her room,” she says, and then stalks back to her own dressing room, yelling over her shoulder, “Her best man finally showed up!” 

“You do know that not seeing the bride before the big day is just a silly superstition!” Nate calls before he heads for Sara’s room. At least it isn’t going to be Sara asking his advice on jewellery again. He’s had to Facetime Charlie at her apartment to get her advice seven times. Unless it’s somehow historically important, he doesn’t have an opinion on jewellery beyond whether it looks nice or not. He loves Ava and Sara, but he’s not sure when agreeing to be Ava’s best man led to him agreeing to be her bride-to-be's go-to for every little wedding thing as well as Ava’s. 

And maybe Nate hangs around outside Sara’s room, listening to Sara talking to this stranger instead of just going inside. He’s never managed to meet Sara’s best man, although Nate’s sure that his name is Mick. Sara’s mentioned something about them working together for a while and Nate thinks that almost every one of his friends knows him too. Apparently he’s an author who just finished up his latest book tour, but the closest Nate’s ever come to meeting him was when he just missed meeting him at Ray and Nora’s engagement party. 

“It looks stupid.” 

“Obviously it looks stupid, Mick, you keep fidgeting with it.” 

“_ Because _it looks stupid. What about the orange one?” 

“_ Peach _ . It’s _ peach _. If Ava hears you calling it orange, she’s going to kill you.” There’s a long pause. “Nate, if that’s you lurking around out there, get your ass in here!" 

Nate sighs, wonders what the hell he did to deserve this, and opens the door. 

Sara’s standing beside the mirror with Mick, poking and prodding at the jacket he’s wearing, slapping Mick’s hands away whenever he tries to do anything with it. Sara’s right; it does look good. But Mick is also right because the red rose boutonniere looks about as awkward as the one Ava tried to get Nate to wear. The rest of the outfit, though... Now _ that _ is something, even if Mick looks uncomfortable in it. 

Soulmates schmoulmates. In the absence of a maid of honor, Nate’s pretty sure that one best man hooking up with the other is what you’re supposed to do, right? And it’s not like Mick can look uncomfortable in an outfit when it’s on the bedroom floor. 

And apparently Nate isn’t the only one looking, as Nate catches Mick giving him a once over just as Sara grabs Mick’s elbow and turns him around to face Nate. 

“Tell him the boutonniere looks good.” 

“What do you think, Pretty?” Mick asks. “I think it looks stupid.” 

Sara’s jaw drops. Or maybe she starts to say something about Mick insulting the damn boutonniere against before she realises what Mick just said. Nate can’t hear anything over the sudden roaring in his ears as those words register. Mick just looks like he’s trying to work out whether he should be concerned or amused by the whole thing. 

“Try the peach one?” Nate suggests weakly, taking a step backwards towards the door. “I think it looks better.” 

And there it is. The look of utter shock as Mick realises who he’s talking to. 

Nate should know what to do. He’s practiced the moment when he finally meets his soulmate hundreds of times. He’s supposed to be cool and collected and happy. 

He’s not supposed to turn tail and bolt. 

He just hears Sara saying, “Oh, fuck!” 

** 

“You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure you kind of met Mick at my twenty-first birthday. I don’t think you talked to him, though. That was the time you were sick in Laurel’s favourite plant.” 

“I’ve known Mick since he lived in the same apartment building as us.” 

“Remember that interview I did with Mona? Well, Mick’s a romance novelist, and he writes under the name of Rebecca Silver.” 

“I did a couple of Mick’s tattoos. Oh, and he used to work with Amaya at that café she worked at when she was at university.” 

“Nate, if you bail and screw up my wedding, I’m going to kill you.” 

Sometimes, Nate really hates his friends. 

** 

Nate’s proud of himself. So far, he’s managed to get through Ava and Sara’s wedding without fucking up, managed to avoid being any closer than two people apart from Mick, and he hasn’t given in to the urge to flee the reception as soon as he can. Which is really something because he’s been stuck here for four hours. 

“But I thought he wanted to meet his soulmate,” Behrad says as Zari finishes relaying the whole sorry story to Nate. 

“He did, but now that it’s finally a reality and not just a pipedream he’s been nursing for more than twenty years, he’s chickening out.” 

“I’m right here!” 

Zari shoots Nate a look that says _ and? _ Which is enough for Nate to decide that he’s had enough of this. He grabs his glass, the rest of the bottle of wine – hey, it’s not as if Behrad or Zari will be drinking it, and Charlie has a massive pitcher of some alarmingly orange cocktail all to herself – and head for the hills. Or at least the balcony. 

** 

The balcony is already occupied, because of course it is. This is just Nate’s luck recently. He’s about to apologise and go back inside, find some dark corner or empty table somewhere, when the other person steps out of the shadows and he realises that it’s Mick. Great. 

“Sorry. I’m guessing I’m the last person you want to see right now.” It probably doesn’t make a great impression on your soulmate when you meet him and then run away. 

Mick frowns, but he looks more thoughtful than annoyed or uncomfortable like he did earlier. He’s untucked his shirt at some point in the evening, and his jacket hangs open. His stupid (peach) boutonniere is still there. “You’re not the last person I want to see. But you’re not far off it.” He shrugs. “I never wanted a soulmate.” 

Yeah, it’s just Nate’s luck that after spending decades waiting for his soulmate to show up, he gets one of the ones who doesn’t want a soulmate. 

“I was right, you know,” Nate says quietly, maybe it’s sudden courage, or maybe it’s that little trait her inherited from his mom, that inability to leave anything alone. “The peach does look better on you than the red did.” He keeps going before Mick can say anything. “I mean, you don’t want a soulmate, but no one asked me before your words showed up on my body. You think it was fun for me having everyone see that I had the word _ pretty _ branded on me by some stranger? I got this stupid thing when I was _ sixteen _.” 

High school. College. Almost every single person he slept with feeling the need to comment on those damn words. All those people who said not quite the right thing. All the people who found out about those words and backed off, as if Nate was already taken by someone he didn’t even know. And now, of course, he finally finds his soulmate, and the guy doesn’t even want anything to do with him. 

Mick looks back towards the reception, where people are starting to get drunk enough that they’re leaving, where Sara and Ava are gone (if the fact that Charlie’s in charge of music is a reliable indication) and gestures towards a set of marble steps built right up against the side of the building. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks. 

** 

The drive is fairly quiet, other than the handful of questions that Nate manages to get him to answer. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Central City. You?” 

“All over the place. My dad was in the military, we moved a lot. I work for Central City’s museum, what about you?” 

“I’m a writer. Romance, science-fiction, fantasy, that kind of thing.” 

“Cool. Zari mentioned that actually. I was sixteen when my soul mark showed up.” 

“I was twenty-four.” 

** 

There are things called survival instincts which some people possess. Nate’s never had them and that’s probably why he finds himself at Mick Rory’s apartment. He’s not really sure why he thinks this is a good idea. But at least Mick is talking to him and not telling him to go to tell. 

As soon as they’re in the door, Mick throws the jacket on the floor. Nate’s reminded of how one of his first thoughts when he saw Mick in that damn outfit was that Mick would look a lot more comfortable if it was on Nate’s bedroom floor. 

Mick pushes up the sleeve of his shirt to expose part of his left arm. Mick’s forearm is a patchwork of old burns, more severe than most of what Nate’s seen outside of hospitals, but Nate can just see part of his soul mark right there, looking just like Nate’s awkward handwriting. _ t _ _ r _ _ y the peach one? I _is visible before it’s covered by the scarring. 

“It showed up when I was in Iron Heights,” Mick explains, “so I tried to burn it off.” 

That... explains a lot actually. Nate doesn’t know a whole lot about criminals, but he does know that a lot of people think that there’s something wrong with people who have a soul mark. Like they’re somehow flawed because of that connection to someone. He reaches out and carefully touches his fingers to the words, traces right along where they would lie if Mick hadn’t tried to get rid of them decades ago. 

“I thought about getting my friend to tattoo over it,” Nate admits as he uses one hand to untuck his own shirt and pull it up just enough to show Mick the words curving across his ribs. The _ what do you think, pretty? s _tanding out starkly against his skin. “I think she even has a design for if I ever give her the okay.” 

Mick’s fingers brush across the words so slowly that Nate can almost feel the pieces slotting into place. He’s about to say something about it to Mick – something cool and witty, the kind of thing Nate used to practice saying to his future soulmate in front of the mirror when he was seventeen and still thought he’d meet his soulmate soon – when Mick kisses him. 

** 

“I can‘t believe I made you decide that a soulmate was worth it after all.” 

“No, you looked ready to punch me that night and I thought it would at least be worth taking you home for the night.” 

“You really are the worst soulmate ever.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” 

Nate nudges at Mick’s thigh with his foot. “How can I when you’re hogging my couch?” 


End file.
